keep on rising till the sky knows your name
by hatrack
Summary: She'd been shocked, then delighted, when Hecate had popped up on her Tinder feed. She hadn't even known if Hecate liked girls, and yet here she was: "Hecate, 21. Potions / History / Spell Theory. All I care about is coffee and my cat."
1. Chapter 1

It was not like Hecate Hardbroom to get distracted. Her ability to sit through a three-hour lecture without once halting her rapid note-taking—even when said lecture was on the complex geopolitical details of Renaissance-era witch hunts and the intersectional nature of the danger to hunted witches—was legendary among those competing for the university's highest honors. Furthermore, if the class was not a lecture but a discussion seminar to which participation was essential, Hecate, though uncomfortable with speaking in front of or interacting with her peers, forced herself to always be prepared to contribute to the conversation. It wasn't that she didn't have anything to say, after all; merely a paralyzing fear of saying it. But such fears were silly. She took herself firmly in hand, and trained her eyes on the front. She listened. She focused. She did not allow herself to get distracted.

And yet.

Pippa Pentangle was sitting one row in front of her, two seats to the left, and Hecate couldn't stop staring at her.

Today her blonde hair was in a high ponytail, which swayed back and forth when she moved her head. Some strands had escaped from the hairband and framed her face. Every few minutes she tucked them behind her ears, but they were too short to stay properly, so all the motion really served to do was emphasize the loveliness of her face, her eyes, her hands, her neck. Her hair looked so soft.

It wasn't like she'd never had class with Pippa before. Quite the opposite: Hecate distinctly recalled seeing Pippa's trademark pink, as bright and electrifying as her smile, in quite a few lectures and labs; and recalled, also, deliberately not looking at her for too long. Pippa was, in Hecate's opinion, probably the most beautiful girl in their year, if not the whole university. But this was the first time she'd ever had a chance to observe Pippa closely—her movements, her expressions. The way she crinkled her nose. The way she crossed her legs at the ankle under her chair. The curve of her shoulders, and hips, and breasts…

Hecate jerked her eyes forward, hastily focusing on the professor, who was in the middle of devising a scenario in attempt to get the one slow wizard in their gender studies class ("The Liberated Witch: Femininity, Tradition and Equality in the Age of Empowerment") to understand, well, the basic concept of institutional sexism. But he was asking stupid questions, and they were getting away from the material at hand, and she had a 99.8 percent in the class anyway. After a minute or two, leaning her chin on her hand, Hecate let her thoughts—and gaze—drift back to Pippa.

She was also clearly bored, watching the guy with narrowed eyes as he attempted to defend his position. Her arms were crossed across her chest, and she was nibbling on her lip in what Hecate recognized as frustration, her way of suppressing the urge to join the argument. Her cheeks were somewhat flushed, and her eyes were dark, and Hecate needed to stop looking at her mouth. Immediately.

Hecate looked down at her notebook and began writing, notes flowing automatically from the professor's mouth through her pen, letting the information processing block her thoughts, at least for the moment. She reminded herself of Rule Number Three of Surviving This Class: "You May Only Look at Pippa When She is Speaking, and Then Only For a Normal Amount of Time. No Staring. For Goddess' Sake, Hecate, Eyes on the Board."

Her ears perked up. She resisted the urge to swivel immediately in her seat. Better to casually turn her head, as if her stomach didn't flip when she set eyes on Pippa. Pippa, who had apparently won the battle with her self-restraint, and was proceeding to decimate the guy's argument so steadily that Hecate could see him shrinking in his seat. Whose eyes were lit up as she spoke, whose hands flew about as she looked around, whose ponytail flipped determinedly. One sleeve of her pink dress had slipped just slightly off her shoulder, letting her delicate collarbone peek out.

It was going to be a very long term.

At the end of class, Hecate packed her books hurriedly, as always, and began thinking about the essays she had due the upcoming week, and month. True, her witching history paper wasn't due for five weeks, but it was fifteen pages and it didn't hurt to get started early; perhaps she could do some research before going to the gym?

There was a loud _bang_ as a number of books and notebooks, balanced too precariously on her desk, hit the ground. Hecate flinched—more at the faces now turned to her than at the noise—and immediately dropped to the ground, gathering the impudent materials. It was possible she was carrying too much around. But she so often went to the library between classes, it was worth it to have everything she might need with her. Usually. Well, sometimes.

"Here," said a voice. Hecate stopped breathing for a moment. Then she looked up.

Pippa was on her knees beside her, holding out two books to her. She was looking directly into Hecate's eyes, closer than arms' length, and she was smiling. At Hecate. With that perfect mouth.

Hecate took in a breath, and felt her face flood with color.

"Um," Hecate said.

"You dropped something." Pippa's voice was amused, teasing in a friendly way, and sweet.

Hecate finally managed to break eye contact. Shutting her eyes against the magnetic pull of Pippa's beauty, ducking her head against the embarrassment, she took the books from Pippa and stood.

"Yes. I—yes." She replaced the last books in her bag and slung it over her shoulders, willing her face to cool down.

"Do you always carry that many books?" Pippa was close to her again, standing next to Hecate's desk. "That looks heavy."

Hecate's feet were screaming at her to run. Every atom in her body was alight with panic. Pippa smelled like clean laundry and lavender, an intoxicating combination that was almost as paralyzing as her gaze. If Hecate could reach out and touch her—see if her hair was as soft as it looked—

"Mhm," Hecate managed. Then she turned on her heel and walked out.

When Pippa got home, she dumped her bag unceremoniously on her bed. She ate an apple, then a doughnut, standing at the kitchen counter flipping through Witch Weekly. And then she drew herself a bath.

Baths were something of a ritual for Pippa. If she had the time, she liked to bathe every day, either at night or whenever she returned home. It soothed her, centered her, inspired her—and ensured that she always looked her best. Glowing smooth skin and a refreshing scent weren't something one was born with, after all.

She filled the tub up without checking the water's temperature; the spells for ensuring the perfect bath had long been in place. Opening her cabinet, she surveyed her bubble options. Today she was in the mood for a cool, earthy smell, so she lifted out a small bottle with Petrichor Essence and poured a spoonful into the tub. Immediately, the small bathroom filled with the scent of rain.

Pippa lit candles, and carefully placed them around the edge of the tub. She made sure her novel, journal and vibrator were all within reach. Finally, she turned off the faucet, stripped, folded her clothes neatly on the counter, and stepped into the tub. Feeling the warmth seep into her, she settled back, head leaning against the porcelain edge, and sighed.

She had really thought Hecate might be interested in her.

Truthfully, it had been a long shot from the beginning. She'd had a crush on Hecate since freshman year—since the first time she'd seen her, really. Then, it had just been about her sheer loveliness: the long dark French braid falling down her back, the strong jaw and quick hands, the slight jump of muscles Pippa was positive she could detect beneath Hecate's perpetual long sleeves. Goddess, what she wouldn't have done to see her in a tank top—one of those bro tanks with slits down the sides to show off her abs…

But the real kicker had come when she'd first heard Hecate speak. It didn't happen often—Pippa thought maybe she was shy—and then whenever the professors spoke to her in a lab, Hecate's voice was always too quiet for Pippa to make out.

On the first day of their gender studies seminar this year, however, when it came time for Hecate to introduce herself and say a little about why she was in the class, she had spoken at some length. She talked about her traditional upbringing and the transition to a more modern university setting, her concerns about performing femininity while maintaining a healthy body image, her uncertainty, in short, about what kind of witch or woman she wanted to be.

When Hecate finished, having spoken longer than even she had expected herself to, she immediately ducked her head and flushed a deep crimson that spread from her cheekbones down into her turtleneck—and, just like that, Pippa was smitten.

Not being the shy and retiring type, Pippa resolved to approach her. But Hecate proved elusive in the extreme. As soon as class ended, she disappeared; where to, Pippa couldn't figure out. She had even walked around the library once, pretending she was looking for a book, just to see if Hecate was there studying; but to no avail. And Hecate wasn't on any social media, either—or so Pippa had thought.

She'd been shocked, then delighted, when Hecate had popped up on her Tinder feed. She hadn't even known if Hecate liked girls, and yet here she was: "Hecate, 21. Potions / History / Spell Theory. All I care about is coffee and my cat." The first photo was of her looking directly out at the camera, long hair falling in waves around her face, dark eyes—dare Pippa say it?— _smoldering_.

She'd flipped through the photos first quickly, then slowly, then obsessively. There was one of Hecate lying on her back with her cat on her chest, nose to nose and staring into each other's eyes. Pippa could almost detect a smile tugging at the corner of Hecate's mouth. In the next one, clearly a candid, that same half-smile danced on Hecate's face as she glared playfully at someone out of the frame.

But it was the last photo that compelled Pippa to abandon her pride and super-like Hecate's profile on the spot. The exact image she'd spent months—no, _years_ —picturing: another candid, taken from behind, of Hecate doing a pull-up in a tank top. Pippa could actually see the muscles in her back, shoulders and arms rippling, and they kind of made her want to cry. Or grab her vibrator.

A door slammed. "Pippa?" called a voice. "Are you home?"

"I'm taking a bath," Pippa called back.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, just take off your shoes first." Pippa had a strict no-dirt policy in her bathroom, and her roommate Julie's shoes, by virtue of her working part-time in the greenhouses, were constantly covered in mud. It was the only source of contention in their otherwise peaceful apartment.

There were two thuds from the hallway, then the door opened. Julie came in carrying her purse and a sandwich, and shut the door with her hip. She sat down on the closed toilet seat and took a bite of her sandwich.

"So," she said around the mouthful. "Updates?"

Pippa sighed deeply and sank down in the bath till her chin was just above the water.

"I don't think she's interested," Pippa said to the suds.

"What?" Julie sat up straighter. "Impossible."

"One might think. But no."

"Why do you think she isn't interested? Of course she's interested."

"Because—at the end of class, when we were starting to leave, she dropped some books and I picked them up for her. And I kind of tried to make conversation, but she just stared at me like I was an alien or something. And then she literally ran away."

Pippa could feel Julie staring at her, but refused to make eye contact. It was a little embarrassing, how sad she felt.

"When you say literally…" Julie started.

"I mean, I said something to her, and she literally turned around and, like, speed-walked away."

"Maybe she had to be somewhere?" Julie tried.

Pippa didn't respond.

Julie sighed, and scooted forward so that she was sitting on the edge of the seat. "Listen. She liked you back on Tinder. That's not nothing. Maybe she's just shy?"

"She hasn't texted me back, either. And it's been like a whole day." Pippa was aware that her voice had taken on a whining edge, but she didn't care. This was her bath time, damn it.

"What did you send her?"

Pippa nodded to her phone, which was on top of her clothes on the counter. Julie quickly tapped in the password and opened the app.

 _hi!_ Pippa had written. _you're in my gender studies class, right? you have the most beautiful hair (not to sound creepy or anything, just sometimes i sit behind you and I can't stop staring lol)_

She'd been going for casual. Breezy. Familiar but not presumptive. Complimentary but not stalkerish. Like it didn't matter too much, she was just saying hi.

"It's a good message," Julie said.

"I know."

They sat in what Pippa considered a mournful silence for a few moments.

"I just," Pippa said. She swallowed. "It's not just that she's pretty, you know? She's, like… _really_ smart. She's as smart as I am—maybe smarter, who knows."

"I doubt that."

Pippa smiled. "Thanks. But—whatever, I was just…really excited about the idea of dating someone who could actually keep up with me. Normally people either can't follow what I'm talking about, or they're scared or, like, sort of threatened by me being ambitious."

She had known from quite a young age that she wanted to have her own school, and the dream only strengthened as she grew up and gained confidence. She was one of the brightest witches of her age. She got along with everyone. She _knew_ she could be an excellent headmistress—and if she started off just good, she would only get better.

But whenever she brought this up with boyfriends or girlfriends, they'd say things like, _Are you sure?_ Or, _Doesn't that sound hard?_ Or, _How do you know you can do it?_

The last one was her least favorite. Constructive criticism she could take. But Pippa believed in herself as much as she believed in the Witches' Code, as much as she believed in magic itself; and she needed someone who would do the same.

"I could see myself telling her about it," Pippa said. "About Pentangle's Academy, I mean. And I felt like—I could see her asking all the right questions. Asking what my ideas are for curriculum, for example. And what kind of garden I'd cultivate. She's smart enough to be able to challenge me, and I think—"

Pippa swallowed again. "I think she would've been good. For me."

"Oh, Pip."

"Yeah."

There was another mournful silence.

"Hey," Julie said gently. "I'm going to heat up some soup. When you're done with your bath, do you want some? We can watch something trashy."

Pippa considered. "Can we have wine with our soup?"

"Absolutely."

"Then yes."

It was dark when Hecate finally left the gym. She'd been there longer than usual, which wasn't necessarily healthy, but she couldn't help it. How could she have acted so stupidly in front of Pippa? Why couldn't she carry on a simple conversation like a normal person? Every time she remembered her final response to Pippa—not even a word, just a sound—she was mortified. This was why she didn't talk to people other than Ada. She was just not made for human interaction.

So Hecate ran on the treadmill until she was sore and panting, the memory of Pippa's amused face _(Goddess, she must think I'm an idiot, why did it have to be Pippa)_ following behind her. She did pushups and pullups and crunches until she was sweaty and red _(why are you like this, why do you react like this, why can't you control your feelings?)_ She worked out, revisiting exercises and machines and weights, until she was exhausted. It was the only way to release the nervous tension in her body, to get rid of the panic that threatened to overwhelm her when she thought of Pippa, of Pippa thinking of her, thinking her ridiculous. Goddess. She couldn't bear it.

After a few hours, her anxiety had dissipated enough for her to go home. The cool air felt good on her skin as she biked, and by the time she reached her apartment, she was almost calm. Her feelings for Pippa were a problem, yes, and humiliating herself like that in front of Pippa was the stuff of her nightmares. But on the other hand, Pippa would likely never speak to her again; and while a small part of her was devastated at the idea, the rest of her knew it was for the best. Perhaps now that she officially had no chance with Pippa, she would finally be able to get over her.

Unlikely. But possible.

Hecate had showered, dressed and begun making dinner by the time her roommate came home. Shrugging her backpack off, Ada put the stack of folders she was holding down on the table and came over to give Hecate a side-hug by the stove.

"Hey," Ada said, smiling up at her. "How was your day?"

Hecate cleared her throat. "Fine. You?"

"Fine. Dimity's organizing a potluck for Saturday. You wanna come?"

"Not particularly."

"It's a small thing. No one you don't know."

"I don't like most of the people I know."

"Dimity said there would be board games. You could probably convince me to play Scrabble."

Hecate raised her eyebrows. "You never need to be convinced to play Scrabble. And you beat me half the time, anyway. What do you really want?"

Ada did her best puppy-dog eyes. "I may have promised Dimity that you'd make something."

"Come on."

"You're the best cook out of all of us, it's hardly fair if you don't."

Hecate rolled her eyes. "Fine. But you have to buy me more vodka. You 'may have' finished my bottle."

"Deal."

Shaking her head, Hecate returned to her stir fry. Ada watched her for a few moments. Then she took a deep breath.

"Hecate?"

"What."

"I need to tell you something."

Hecate looked at her, still stirring. "What's up?"

Ada took another breath. "I made you a Tinder."

"You…" Hecate was motionless, mouth slightly open, staring wide-eyed at Ada.

"And someone messaged you—a girl. She thinks you have pretty hair. Which you do, so."

Hecate was still staring at her. Ada couldn't identify all the emotions flickering in her eyes, but she was pretty sure the dominant one was panic.

"Please say something," Ada said quietly, stepping closer to her. "Are you mad?"

"I—you—" But Hecate couldn't say anything else. Ada could hear her struggling to control her breathing. She took the spoon out of Hecate's hand, and turned the stove off. She scooped the vegetables onto the waiting plate, grabbed a fork and offered it to Hecate, who took it mutely. Then Ada guided Hecate to the table, and sat across from her.

"I can't," Hecate said, after a few minutes.

"You can't what?" Ada asked.

"I can't—talk to this girl. Whoever she is," Hecate said, eyes on her plate.

"I'm not asking you to talk to her," Ada said gently. "I just wanted to give you the option."

Hecate looked at her, mouth set. As usual, only her eyes betrayed that she was anything other than calm.

Ada sighed. "I'm sorry if I overstepped," she said. "I didn't mean to—I wasn't trying to push you, or anything. I was just thinking of…do you remember that Saturday like three weeks ago? When we got drunk on tequila and went to the roof to look at the stars?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember what we talked about?"

A pause. "Not…particularly, no."

"You were talking about girls," Ada said. "About—wanting girls. Liking girls, and wanting to date them, but not knowing how. And about," she pushed on, even as Hecate's lips trembled, "being angry at yourself for wanting that, and being angry at yourself for being angry, and how you were worried that you'd never be able to have that. Love, I mean."

Hecate stared down at her plate. Ada pulled her chair around so that she was sitting next to Hecate, so that she could wrap an arm around her shoulders. Hecate sniffed once, twice, and Ada knew she was crying.

"You don't have to talk to this girl. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, or aren't comfortable with. I'll delete the account, if you like," Ada said quietly. "But I want you to know that—it's okay for you to like girls, and it's okay for you to want to date them. And you can date them, if you want. They're there." She wasn't sure if it would be helpful or frightening, but she couldn't help adding, "And they like you. A lot of girls have liked your profile. Like…a _lot_."

Hecate leaned into her shoulder.

"Just think about it," Ada said. "Okay?"

Ada heard Hecate swallow. Then she nodded, and Ada couldn't help smiling.

"Okay," Ada said. "Do you want to watch 'The Great British Baking Show'?"

Hecate nodded again. The she scrubbed quickly at her eyes with her hands, sat up straight, and started eating.

Overall, Ada thought, she would consider it a victory.


	2. Chapter 2

Pippa entered her gender studies class in an uncharacteristically terrible mood. Generally speaking, she held an optimistic view of the world: things usually went her way, more or less, and when they didn't, she chalked it up to experience and grabbed a bath bomb. But this week was proving to be unusually busy, which meant that she stayed up too late, didn't sleep enough and turned in subpar work; she was stressed about applications for summer positions, whose deadlines were approaching far too quickly; and getting over Hecate's rejection was proving more difficult than she had expected.

It made sense, in some ways—she'd been attracted to Hecate for so long that she'd built up a whole world of daydreams around what it would be like to date her. Pippa would never in a million years have guessed that Hecate was queer, or that Pippa would have an opportunity to approach her, so it had seemed like a safe fantasy: something to think about during a boring class, or to get off to at night. There was no chance of it becoming reality, so there was no possibility that she would get hurt. Until she saw Hecate's Tinder.

 _Well, and now you know,_ Pippa thought, deliberately keeping her focus fuzzy as she moved to a seat in the front. She knew a black-clad figure was already sitting in her usual seat in the back, and wanted to avoid looking directly at her, now or for the rest of class. Possibly ever.

Her phone buzzed. From Julie: _How was your date?_

Pippa silenced the phone and dropped it into her backpack without responding. The coffee date she'd been on that morning had been—well, fine. Mediocre for sure, but not actively bad. She might even have called it decent, under different circumstances, and the girl had already texted her about setting up another date. She was cute, and smart, and sweet, so Pippa would probably say yes.

But she wasn't Hecate.

And Pippa _knew_ she was being melodramatic, she knew it even without Julie's raised eyebrows and gentle if pitying tones, but damn it, she was entitled to her feelings. And she felt, melodramatic though it was, a genuine grief for her favorite daydream. The loss of hope—for Hecate, for herself, for a satisfying love life—was hard to bear.

The professor stood, shutting the door with a wave of her hand. Pippa opened her notebook and began to write, attempting to let the rhythm of the professor's voice soothe her.

It had been two days since the Pippa Incident, and Hecate, while not quite calm—never really calm, if she was honest with herself—was feeling slightly less awful about the whole thing. Or at least, she managed to get all the way to class and settle in her usual chair before the shame crept back into her throat.

But she had made it through two years of classes with Pippa Pentangle, and if she had more reason now than ever to feel vulnerable, well, she would manage. That was what eye makeup and boots and muscle were for, after all: making her feel invincible, even when she knew all too well that she wasn't.

Hecate flipped through her notes, trying to review the day's readings before class started. She didn't look up until the professor began speaking, and then she only glanced at the board.

Despite her best efforts, though, she noticed three things.

One: Pippa's hair was long and loose over her shoulders. Images flashed through Hecate's mind rapidly: what it would be like to brush hair off her face, braid it, tangle her fingers in it while kissing Pippa—no—

Two: Pippa wore a short, swishy pink skirt, and it slid up her thighs as she leaned forward in her chair. What it would be like to hold her hip, skim a hand up her leg, under her skirt, to— _no_ —

Three: Pippa wasn't looking at her.

Hecate couldn't be sure of that, of course, especially as she herself was determinedly (mostly) not looking at Pippa. But it wasn't like Pippa to face front the whole time, especially if she was sitting in the first row. Normally, she kept her eyes on whoever was speaking, twisting around in her chair to spot the people in the back.

Today, however, Pippa looked at the professor, her notebook, and occasionally into space. She still spoke often, still seemed attentive, she just—wouldn't look past the first row. And when Hecate spoke, as she forced herself to do at least once a class, she could've sworn she saw Pippa's shoulders stiffen.

Dread settled in Hecate's stomach.

Maybe Pippa really did hate her.

She had assumed she was overreacting, as she usually did to anything and everything that went wrong. She had attempted to assure herself that while Pippa was a major figure in her mental life, she was no more than a blip on the radar, and so Pippa couldn't harbor any emotion towards her beyond indifference. Evidently, she had been wrong.

Hecate counted breaths, one two three four five, and tried to think. There were any number of reasons that Pippa might be behaving differently. Perhaps she had injured her back. Or was feeling tired. Or was angry with someone else in the class, someone else who wasn't her, who couldn't possibly be her.

When class ended, Hecate stayed in her seat for a full two minutes longer than she usually did, gathering her breath, thoughts and things. As she packed up, she glanced up at the board to ensure that she'd written down the necessary homework information—and looked Pippa full in the face as she was coming down the aisle, pink backpack slung carelessly over a shoulder.

Pippa looked back at her, indifferent. No smile, no eyes sparkling with amusement. Then she kept walking.

Hecate watched her leave the class with something that felt horribly like inevitability prickling at her eyes.

Then she swallowed hard, and finished packing her things.

On her way home, Pippa sent a flirty reply to the girl. Within minutes, they had another date scheduled for Friday. A dinner date. Which would probably include making out, and might include sex. That would cheer her up. Pippa was a really big fan of sex.

Before she had even opened the apartment door fully, Julie was bugging her.

"Sooooooo?" she called from the couch, where she lounged with her feet on the armrest. "How was it?"

Pippa headed straight for the kitchen. "Class? Fine."

"Your _date._ "

"Also fine," Pippa said, then corrected herself. "Good. We have another date Friday."

Julie waggled her eyebrows. Pippa ignored her, and began making toast.

"That's great, Pip," Julie said. There was a question in her voice.

Pippa didn't look at her. "Yeah," she said. "It is."

Hecate went to the gym, but permitted herself to stay only as long as she usually did; only as long as was healthy. She'd been sore the day before—too sore, the sort of sore that led to pulling muscles. She had to be more careful. Ada told her that frequently.

As she biked home, she felt a strange sense of purpose. Her mind was focused and clear. She couldn't quite pinpoint the source of the feeling, but it had been crystallizing, settling into her bones, for a while now.

It wasn't until she saw Ada's books spread out across their coffee table that she realized what she had decided—secretly and quietly, unconsciously, at some point during the day.

Ada emerged from the kitchen, mug in hand, and smiled at her. "Hey," she said. "How was your day?"

There was no chance of her ever dating Pippa. Hecate knew that. But that didn't mean—necessarily—that she would be alone forever.

"It was fine," Hecate said, voice wavering only slightly. "You?"

She could try talking to people—to girls. It would be casual, low-key, without the immediacy of a girl standing in front of her, muddling Hecate's mind with her beauty. And, if she felt so inclined, she could ask someone on a date. Maybe someone would ask her on a date. Who knew?

"Good," Ada said, and continued on, telling her about her spells class and their group projects, and the research she was conducting for potions, and how her education class—which she had thought might be dull—was actually extremely interesting. Hecate was listening. Mostly.

Ada had said, before, that someone was interested in her. (Well—Hecate felt the beginnings of a blush creeping up her cheeks—that many people were interested in her). That someone had messaged her. As improbable as it was that the girl actually liked her, and would continue to like her after meeting her, and that she herself would like the girl as well…still.

At the very least, she could find out.

"You're blushing," Ada said, amused. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm sorry," Hecate said, blushing more deeply at being caught out. "I was listening, I swear. I'm glad you like your education class, and your research sounds extremely interesting, and you should tell your partner that I'll hex him if he doesn't do his share of the work."

"Oh, I will," Ada said. She leaned against the counter and smirked at Hecate. "If you tell me what you were thinking about just now."

Hecate swallowed. She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. While her back was turned, she began, "I, uh. Well. I was thinking."

"Clearly."

Hecate took a sip, then another. Then she put the glass down, still facing away from Ada. Eyes bright, heart in her throat, she asked, "Will you teach me to use Tinder?"

An intake of breath from Ada.

"Hecate, nothing—and I do mean nothing—would give me more joy."


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, so." Ada scooted forward and put her laptop on the table so that Hecate could see the screen. As she spoke, she continued tapping at the keys, pulling up the Tinder website.

"I made you an account online, because obviously I couldn't do it on your phone, but most people just use the app 'cause it's more convenient. So if you want, you can download the app and use it there. But I'll show you what I've done so far."

Hecate nodded, afraid her voice would crack if she spoke. Ada looked at her and grinned.

"You ready?"

Hecate cleared her throat. "Yeah. Yes."

"Okay," Ada said. "Here's how you do this."

On the screen, there was a photo of a young woman with golden-brown hair that curled at her shoulders reading in an armchair. Beneath the photo, it read, "Jen, 22. Kindergarten teacher & poetry lover. Likes long walks in the woods and discussing magical theory."

"It's pretty straightforward," Ada said. "If you're interested in talking to her, you hit this heart button or swipe right, and she'll get a notification that you liked her profile. If you're not, hit the x button or swipe left. If she likes you back, you'll get a notification and you can message her."

"What about this?" Hecate pointed to a star button on the far right of the screen.

Ada's eyes twinkled. "That's the super-like button. It's kind of a big deal. Do you want to know how many people have super-liked you?"

"Um."

"Twelve."

Hecate tried not to gape. "Wow. Um. Really?"

"Yup." Ada watched her friend open and close her mouth for a few seconds before taking pity on her. "Do you want to give it a try?"

They spent a few minutes flipping through the profiles. Jen got a like, as did a few other pretty, intelligent-looking witches; every time Hecate swiped right, she ducked her head and flushed. They came across Agatha, with smoky eyes and red lips—Ada was secretly pleased that Hecate swiped left before she even had time to wince—and Dimity on a surfboard, abs and glowing eyes on full display. Hecate hesitated.

"The thing that's nice about swiping right on friends is that you can pretend you did it just to say hello," Ada said quietly. "It doesn't have to be a big deal."

Hecate swallowed, and swiped right, eyes flickering up to meet hers for just a moment as if she was revealing a secret. Ada decided not to bring up that time Hecate had gotten tipsy at a solstice picnic, gathered roses from the woods and used one to trace down Dimity's jaw and across her lips; or that that was the one and only time she'd ever seen Dimity speechless. She would save that information for later, if the occasion called for it.

"Wait. What does my profile look like?" Hecate asked, drawing Ada out of her thoughts.

"Oh, yes. I almost forgot." This, of course, was a bare-faced lie; she just needed Hecate to get more comfortable with the app before she showed her the profile she made. After all, she hadn't exactly consulted with her about some of those photos.

With a few clicks, she pulled it up.

"All I care about is coffee and my cat," Hecate read slowly, eyebrows pinched together. She stared at herself on the screen. Hecate was self-conscious at best, Ada thought, but even she had to admit that it was far from an embarrassing photo.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. When did you take this picture?"

"Beginning of the year. You like it?"

"I…yeah. What are the other ones?"

Ada scrolled the photos slowly. There was the one of Morgana on Hecate's chest, the one of Hecate glaring at someone at a party—Dimity, probably—and then—

"Ada!"

"What?"

"When—how— _why_ did you take this?"

Hecate's voice rose higher and higher with each word. Clearly, the photo of her doing a pull-up had been crossing a line, though Ada couldn't imagine why.

"Last year, when I came to pick you up from the gym and you weren't ready yet."

"So you decided to take _pictures_ of me? And put them on the _Internet?_ "

"Girls want to see your muscles, Hecate."

"But—"

"Look at your shoulders. Goddess."

Hecate was silent. Ada finally risked a look at her.

"Are you mad?"

After a moment, and a little hesitantly, she replied, "No. Well, a little. But—it is—a good picture. I think."

Ada smiled. "It is. And, you know, if you decide it makes you too uncomfortable, you can take it down. You can edit your profile and put up whatever photos you want."

She let Hecate look at the photo for a few more seconds, uncertain, intrigued, and just a little bit pleased.

"Okay," Ada said. "Do you want to see your messages?"

"How do I have messages, again? I thought I had to like people's photos?"

"Yeah. Initially I just put up your profile, but then when people started liking you, I figured it wouldn't hurt to just, you know, open that pathway. Just in case. So I liked a few back. And—well."

Ada clicked on the message icon. There were ten messages there. Most just said, 'Hey, what's up?' A few referenced her cat, or studies. And one was from Pippa.

Ada had not, when she was first devising this plan, specifically set out to get Hecate to talk to the girl she'd been pining over for years. Initially, the goal had been to get her to talk to any girl at all, just to get her more comfortable with the whole idea of romance—and also to show her that in spite of what her anxiety told her, Hecate was in fact very attractive. But then Pippa had super-liked her profile, and all bets were off. If Ada didn't mess it up, her meddling could be far more productive than she'd ever thought.

"Ada—is that—" Hecate sounded equal parts amazed and terrified.

Without a word, Ada clicked on the message.

It read: _hi! you're in my gender studies class, right? you have the most beautiful hair (not to sound creepy or anything, just sometimes i sit behind you and I can't stop staring lol)_

" _Goddess,_ " Hecate breathed out, reverently.

"She super-liked your profile," Ada said.

"Pippa. Likes my hair," Hecate repeated.

"And your muscles, I'd guess," Ada said, trying her best not to smirk.

They were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, arms and sides pressed together, and so Ada could feel the exact moment that Hecate's astonishment turned to panic. She folded in on herself, scooting back until she was curled against the couch's arm.

"What? What is it?" Ada asked, putting a hand out to her.

"I ruined it. Goddess, I must have ruined it. That's why—she must have—but then—oh, _no._ "

"Slow down," Ada demanded, turning to face her and pressing her hand against her leg to ground her. "What happened?"

Hecate took a breath, then released it. "Earlier this week. I dropped my books as I was leaving class, and Pippa—stopped to help me pick them up. And she said something to me, something like, 'Do you always carry that many books,' and she was smiling and standing so close to me, and I just—I ran. I panicked."

She was giving Ada a pleading look, and so Ada said, "It's okay. That's understandable. Then what?"

"Well, today in class, she—it seemed like she was trying not to look at me? And I thought that couldn't be right, but it really—she wouldn't even turn around. And then when she was leaving, we made eye contact, and it was like she was just looking through me. Like I wasn't even there. And—" Hecate swallowed. "What if that's why she's angry at me? Because she messaged me and I didn't respond, and I didn't talk to her in class? Goddess, she must think—"

"It was a miscommunication," Ada said, as calmly as she could. "You didn't know."

"Yes, but—"

"Message her back and tell her you didn't check the app. Or explain that your annoying roommate made the profile and you didn't see it until just now. She'll understand."

Ada could see the hope and anxiety battling in Hecate's eyes.

"You think?" Hecate said quietly.

"Yeah. I do. And tell her that you think her hair is beautiful, too." Ada knew it might be pushing her luck, but she continued, "If you want, you could ask her out, too. It's perfect because you're in the same class, so you can just phrase it as a study thing. Low pressure. Just a chance for you to get to know each other better."

Hecate's eyes were wide, but her breathing was steady. "Is that—" She stopped and cleared her throat, a flush rising over her cheeks. "On the one hand, that sounds—just on the bearable side of too much, but also—is that—" The flush deepened, and Ada could see her struggling to get the word out. "Romantic enough?"

"Depends on where you do it," Ada said calmly, as if her best friend wasn't looking happier than she'd seen her in weeks—a quiet, cautious happy, but nevertheless—and as if she herself wasn't jumping for joy inside. "You could have her over here, you could go to a café or the library…if it wasn't chilly out I'd say you could have a picnic, but—"

"Not here," Hecate said. "I don't know if I can have her here yet. It's just—"

"Personal space," Ada finished. "Yeah."

"And the library's—I don't know."

"Not enough privacy?" Ada offered.

"Something like that," Hecate said slowly. "Maybe a café would be good."

"Are you going to text her? Now?"

A moment. Then: quietly but decisively, Hecate said, "Yes. Now."

Pippa was lying on her bed, pretending to read a textbook while actually contemplating the contents of her closet, which she could see from her vantage point. She had a lot of pink clothing for everyday wear, and a lot of black for formal occasions, but not a lot in between. She could do with some nice blue and green dresses, for example. Or at least that would be a good excuse to go shopping. A new store had opened up, and she had a date on Friday. If she didn't cancel it.

Pippa sighed. It was unethical to date people that one didn't actually particularly like, especially as a rebound. But it wasn't that she didn't like her, and she wasn't technically on the rebound. She was just…settling. Which was something plenty of people did. But it was hardly flattering to the girl. And what would she say if a better prospect came along? They just weren't a good match, that was all—a perfectly reasonable, and not untrue, thing to say. The difference was that she had known that from their first date.

She buried her head in her textbook and groaned.

"Pip, come get your phone. It keeps buzzing." Julie's voice came in through the door from the kitchen.

Pippa rolled off the bed, stumbled a few feet and pulled herself upright to open the door and head for the living room. She spotted her phone on the coffee table and grabbed it, collapsing into the armchair across from Julie.

"Anything interesting?" Julie said, scribbling in her notebook, a textbook open on her knees. "You know I live vicariously through your popularity."

"Stop it," Pippa said half-heartedly, scrolling through texts and notifications. After replying to a few messages, she began checking apps automatically: Snapchat, Insta, Tinder…

"Oh Goddess." She sat up straight, a smile blossoming on her lips in spite of herself. "She messaged me back!"

"Who?"

"Hecate!"

In a second, Julie was next to her, sitting on the arm of the chair and peering down at her phone. They read Hecate's message together:

 _Hi. I'm sorry for the late response. It's a long story, but my roommate made this account and didn't show it to me until today. Would you want to study together sometime? Maybe at Cosy's?_

And then, below:

 _You have lovely hair, too._

"She asked me out. She actually asked me _out._ " Pippa was almost giddy with relief, a tension she hadn't fully realized she was carrying dropping from her shoulders in an instant.

"Are you going to respond?"

"Hold on," Pippa said. She switched over to text and sent a quick note to the girl from that morning: _hey. i'm sorry for the confusion, but i think we'd be better as friends. let me know if you want to hang out platonically, i'm always down for face masks :)_

"Good," Julie said. "You're way too hot to be stringing anyone along."

"I know. Now—should I wait a few minutes, or—no. Nope."

 _hey! no worries, thanks for letting me know! your roommate sounds like fun, i want to hear the whole story ;) i'd love to! what about saturday?_

"She must just be really shy," Pippa said, the benefit of the doubt coming easily to her now that her fears had been assuaged. "When she dropped her books and then ran? I must have startled her."

"You do tend to have that effect on people," Julie deadpanned. 

Pippa hit her arm. "Maybe she was overwhelmed by my beauty."

A new message: _Saturday would work well. Four p.m.?_

 _see you then!_ Pippa typed back. She stared down at their messages for a few moments, then leaned back in the chair, sighing happily.

"Jules," she said, eyes closed.

"What?"

"Maybe I'll get to touch her hair."

"You're ridiculous."

"Maybe I'll get to touch her _arms._ Do you think she kisses on the first date?"

"Are you excited?" Ada said, watching Hecate with amusement over their dining table.

Hecate was excited, to be sure. She was also petrified, and hopeful, and very, very happy, and filled with despair. There were so many ways for this to go wrong, and her brain was itching to explore every one of them in detail. How had Pippa even noticed her in the first place? They had never even spoken in the first place, and it wasn't like she was anything remarkable, she just sat in the back of class and tried to be invisible. And yet—Pippa had seen her. She thought her hair was pretty. There was a chance—slim, even miniscule, but a chance nevertheless—that this could go well. If she didn't trip over her feet and forget how to speak and generally make a fool of herself. It could go well.

"Yes," she said, for simplicity.

"You'll be fine," Ada said, apparently sensing the things she hadn't been able to say.

"Yes."

"Try to forget about it, okay? Until Saturday. Don't get stressed over it now. If Saturday morning comes and you don't think you can do it, we'll talk then. But for now, just put it out of your mind."

Given her track record when it came to putting Pippa out of her mind—namely, that she wasn't very good at it, and even when she managed to avoid consciously daydreaming about her, Pippa inevitably made an appearance in her dreams, all silky hair and long legs and soft lips—Hecate was not so sure about this plan. But:

"I'll try," she said.

Ada smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday morning found Hecate staring wide-eyed at her ceiling, rigid with fear. It was six a.m., and though it wasn't unusual for her to wake up that early—particularly on days that promised stress; anytime she had exams, or interviews, she was up at the crack of dawn—she had also barely slept the night before. She didn't need much sleep, but she needed some, and she hadn't gotten it in three days.

She supposed she'd crash that night—maybe once the date and all its accompanying adrenaline were over, her body would finally let her rest. Or she would stay awake once more, analyzing their every interaction, wondering what she had done wrong, and worrying both that they wouldn't have another date and that they would. She wasn't sure which was more terrifying. On the one hand, if Pippa rejected her, she would be utterly devastated. On the other hand, if Pippa didn't—if, improbably, she wanted to continue seeing her—Hecate would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. She just couldn't win.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed. Better to put the nervous energy to work than to stew in it. Within minutes, she was dressed and out the door, running in the cool, gray air.

It felt good to stretch her legs. Goosebumps rose on her arms, then disappeared under a sheen of sweat as she warmed up. She ran past apartment blocks and buildings, around street corners and under bridges, until she reached the edge of the forest. There were few people on the trail this early: one upside to her sleeplessness.

On the trail, Hecate breathed easier. She allowed her magic to reach out and greet the magic of the plants, the trees, the flowers. The forest's magic was as soothing and refreshing as the fresh air. For a while, her thoughts calmed.

Hecate was home, showered and making coffee when she heard the telltale signs of Ada stirring, so she pulled down a second mug and got out the toast. Sure enough, within a few minutes, Ada came into the kitchen. She had her phone in hand and was grumbling softly under her breath, but she brightened at the sight of Hecate.

"Is there—"

Hecate nodded at the two mugs waiting side by side on the counter. Ada grinned at her.

"This is why you're my favorite roommate."

"I'm your only roommate."

" _And_ my favorite one," Ada said, nudging her aside and grabbing a piece of toast. "Truly, a goddess among witches."

Hecate poured the coffee, added a lot of milk to Ada's and just a hint to hers, then carried their mugs to the table. She watched as Ada covered her toast with butter and jam and made a berry salad. Ada took Saturday breakfast seriously.

"How was your Friday night?" Hecate asked. She'd been half-asleep when Ada arrived home late the previous night.

Ada waved her hand vaguely. "Oh, you know. The usual. We went out, but Gwen and Algie spent the whole time making out in a corner, Dimity just wanted to dance—which was fine, I danced with her for a while, but she just doesn't run out of energy—and then at some point I had to go take care of Agatha because she was throwing up and her date didn't want to deal with her."

"Neither did you," Hecate pointed out.

"Yeah. But I'm her sister, so."

"Exactly. Her sister, not her mother."

"Same difference, with Agatha." Hecate didn't respond. They'd had this conversation before, and she didn't want Ada to feel attacked.

"I know you think it's silly," Ada said, not looking up.

"Maybe," Hecate said, carefully. "But I don't have a sister. Or a mother. So I might just not understand."

Ada was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat. "How was your night?"

"Uneventful," Hecate said. As usual, she'd been studying. Sometimes she went out with Ada's group, but her anxiety levels were far too high this weekend for anything as nerve-wracking as a bar.

"Yeah? And how are you feeling today?"

Hecate took a sip of coffee to swallow the lump that had just appeared in her throat. She'd thought the forest had grounded her enough to get through the morning, but apparently not. The mere reminder of the date flooded her with panic. "Moderately terrified," she responded, voice as steady as she could manage.

"That good?" Ada sat down across from her, and they made eye contact. Then, suddenly, Ada's arm was around her shoulders.

"Very, very terrified," Hecate managed, teeth grinding as her breath caught in her chest and everything blurred. Her hands were shaking. She put the coffee down. Ada pressed on her shoulders and biceps, a series of rhythmic squeezes.

"Hey. Okay. That's okay," Ada said soothingly. "Breathe, babe, breathe." But she couldn't—she couldn't—she just—

A few minutes and one panic attack later, Hecate found herself reclining on the couch, back against Ada's front, with one of Ada's arms tight around her, and her other hand in Hecate's hair. Ada's legs were tangled with hers, pinning them down.

"Hey there," Ada said, breath tickling Hecate's ear.

"What if she ends up hating me?" Hecate asked, voice barely above a whisper. "What if she thinks I'm boring? What if we don't have anything to talk about? What if I just stare at her and don't say anything at all? What if I knock her drink over and it goes all over her? What if it's literally the worst date possible and she never speaks to me again? Not to be melodramatic but I think I might die, Ada, I'm not kidding."

"I know. This is like basically the most terrifying thing possible."

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not," Ada said, tugging Hecate upright so she could look her in the eye. "I'm really not. This is the most terrifying thing possible—for you. You've trained dragons and experimented with highly dangerous potions and sat through classes with students twice your age, and all of those things pale in comparison. Right?"

"Yes," Hecate said. "Without a doubt."

"There you go. You're being so, so brave. You have been this whole week. Did you realize that?"

Hecate was quiet. She leaned her head against Ada's shoulder. And Ada decided that it was now or never.

"You don't have to go," Ada said. "I know this whole situation is unbelievably stressful for you. You haven't been sleeping, and you're exercising even more than usual. You could text her and cancel, and either reschedule or not, it's up to you.

"But I've seen the way you get when you talk about her. I can even tell when you're thinking about her, because your eyes kind of light up, and you smile just a little bit. And I know that it's not just a surface thing—you really think she's smart and nice and pretty. And the thing is? She thinks you're smart and nice and pretty too. This could be so good, Hecate."

"You really think so." It was a question and a statement, delivered in the smallest of voices. Ada held Hecate tighter to her, wishing she could impart peace somehow through her skin, a direct hit of love and warmth.

"I really, really, really think so."

A few minutes passed. When Ada glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, Hecate's cheeks were wet with tears. And then:

"Oh, Goddess. Oh _no._ "

"What? What is it?" Hecate had leaped up, and was now stood staring at her, eyes bright and frantic.

"What am I going to _wear_?"

Pippa had a routine for getting ready for big dates. First, a long bath with alluring scents—rose petals, jasmine, cedarwood, et cetera. Then lotion. Then drying and styling her hair. Since this was a study date, she decided to go for a fishtail braid; fancy and pretty but reasonably casual at the same time. Then lingerie.

Pippa laid her full stock of silky underwear out on her bed and considered.

"A little presumptuous of you, wouldn't you say?" Julie said, leaning against the doorframe.

"At this point, it's not for her, it's for me," Pippa said, without taking her eyes off the selection. "To make me feel pretty."

"You are pretty."

"Thanks, honey," Pippa said. "I should rephrase: to make me feel _sexy._ Like of course she wants me and of course this will go perfectly and of course we're going to get married."

She decided on a light, pearly-pink lace set of a bralette and thong and dropped her towel, pulling them on.

"Oh, yeah," Julie said. "That's proposal-worthy for sure."

With a snap of her fingers, all of her underwear was resettled in her drawer. Pippa began thumbing through her dresses and tossing them on her bed.

"Speaking of proposals. How's Operation Star of the Sky and Also Julie's Bed going?"

"It's not."

"Ask her out before I ask her out for you."

"She gets asked out like three times a week," Julie said, abandoning the doorway to flop in Pippa's armchair. "What makes me special?"

"How do you even know that?"

"Algie. He works in the greenhouses with me sometimes."

"Does he know you like her?"

"No. He just thought it was funny. And it is, kind of, if you're not me."

Pippa was trying to find a dress she hadn't worn in class before. Something a little more dressy but not actually formal, because they were just going to a café, and this wasn't a big deal. Except it was the biggest deal.

She ruled out anything white or pink. For some reason, she wanted to surprise Hecate. It was always a little weird going from the classroom to a date, and she tried to smooth over the transition whenever possible by encouraging her crush to see her in a new light. What was Hecate's favorite color, other than black?

"…So I'm counting on you, Pentangle. Roll through for both of us."

"Hmm?" Pippa was digging into the back of her closet, trying to see if there was anything she'd missed.

Julie laughed. "I knew you weren't paying attention."

"I'm sorry, I'm a little distracted."

"Yeah, yeah. I was just saying—Hecate and Dimity are friends, right? So if this goes well, maybe you could set us up?"

Pippa threw a look at her best friend over her shoulder, smiling. "Count on it."

Then her hand hit velvet. She searched for the hanger, and pulled it out. A dark purple crushed velvet dress with little stars all over it. In seconds, it was on. Pippa turned to eye herself in the mirror.

Julie hopped up to look over her shoulder. She exhaled. "Holy shit."

The cut of the neck drew the eye subtly to her breasts and emphasized their curves without being clingy. The waist was high, the skirt fell to her knees, and the sleeves came loosely to her elbows, to give the effect of being pushed up. The overall picture was—at the risk of sounding cheesy—positively magical.

Julie nudged Pippa, and she smiled, wrapping her arm around Julie's waist and tucking her head into her shoulder. "Jules?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm so excited."

Julie squeezed her tight. "Go get her, babe."

Hecate got to the café an hour early. At this point, she wasn't even trying to justify her actions to herself. A coping mechanism was a coping mechanism, and this way, she was not only assured that she couldn't be late, but she would already be settled and sipping her coffee when Pippa arrived. For a moment, she tried to imagine that she might come off as nonchalant, calm, collected. She wondered if there was a spell to prevent excess sweating.

She picked a corner booth for privacy, ordered her usual black coffee, and got to work. She'd brought her magical theory homework to distract her until Pippa got there—it wasn't that hard, but it required the most focus, so it was useful when she was trying to avoid thinking about something. Or someone.

The next thing she knew, there was a tap on her shoulder. The scent of roses reached her nose. And then a musical voice: "Hecate?"

Hecate looked up and directly into Pippa's glowing brown eyes, and her mind went blank.

Instinctively, she stood up to greet her, forgetting that her hand had been right beside her coffee mug. She knocked into it, spilling its contents all over her papers.

"Damn it—" Hecate swore, at the same time that Pippa said, "Oh, no, here—" and levitated Hecate's books so that they wouldn't get damp. Hecate quickly cast a drying spell over her notes and cleaned the table with a wave of her hand, but the papers were ruined. Internally, she slapped herself. That had been a week's worth of lecture notes, for goddess's sake…

Then Pippa said, "Let me." She put Hecate's books down, and held her hand over the papers. She muttered something, and the coffee rose like steam into the air, leaving Hecate's notes as pristine as before.

"Thank you," Hecate said, mouth somewhat agape. "How—how did you do that? I've never—"

"I'll teach you the incantation," Pippa said, a smile tugging at her lips, "if you let me buy you another coffee to make up for startling you."

"Oh, no, you don't have to—"

"This is the second time this week," Pippa observed. "We've got to stop meeting like this."

Hecate's brain stumbled over itself. Was Pippa—flirting with her?

"I was going to buy your drink," Hecate said, picking her words carefully. "Since I asked you. To join me."

"Well then," Pippa said, and now she was smiling wide and bright, the sort of smile that reduced Hecate to mush. "I guess we'll just have to buy each other's. Shall we?"

Hecate nodded dumbly. Oh, goddess, she was blushing, wasn't she? She could feel the red stain all the way down her neck.

Pretty soon they were settled back in their booth. Hecate had gotten another coffee, while Pippa had opted for a floral tea and a scone. She'd told Hecate not to worry about the scone, but Hecate had insisted. She seemed so set on being mannerly. When they'd gone back and forth over the pastry, a little furrow had developed in her dark brows and her lips pursed in a way that was incredibly kissable. Pippa felt the heat of it all the way from her cheeks to the pit of stomach, and mentally reined herself in.

Hecate was still dressed in all black, but instead of her usual turtleneck and jeans, she wore a loose blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers that cupped her ass perfectly. Pippa considered it a personal victory that she hadn't fainted at the very sight.

"So," Pippa said, blowing gently on her tea. "Tell me about yourself."

Immediately, Hecate's brows shot up. Pippa had thought it was an easy question, but Hecate looked so stressed. Pippa amended quickly: "Tell me how you ended up on Tinder?"

Hecate's face cleared and her eyes brightened. She told Pippa about her roommate Ada and how she was gently—and sometimes not so gently—encouraging her to try new things. "I wouldn't normally be a dating app sort of person, but, well, Ada asked me to try it, so…"

"You guys are really close, huh?"

"Yes. She's my best friend."

"How did you guys meet?"

And then Hecate told her a story about going off to boarding school and being so afraid of all the other students, and then of a little girl with glasses sitting down with her in the library. When she finished, Hecate asked about her roommate, and then she told her all about Julie and her muddy shoes and their nights watching "The Bachelorette," and then she had to explain the concept of "The Bachelorette."

Hecate looked horrified. "So all these men live in a house together, and—vie for this woman's attention?"

Pippa giggled. "Yes. It's hilarious. You should come watch it with us sometime."

Hecate looked startled, but pleased. "If you like," she said quietly.

"I would like," Pippa said, feeling daring. "I would like it a lot."

The red stain had returned to Hecate's cheeks. In the absence of the turtleneck, Pippa could see how it spread from her face to her neck to her chest, dipping down to where her blouse covered her breasts. Goddess, how she wanted to see how far down that blush went.

But that wasn't the goal of this first date. The goal of the first date was to make it clear to Hecate that she liked her and wanted to get to know her better. If it turned out that Hecate liked her too, they could proceed from there. And there was no time like the present to make things clear.

"You know, I'm really glad you asked me to get coffee," Pippa said softly, placing her hand on the table near Hecate's. Hecate glanced at it as if she didn't know what to do with it. In her defense, Pippa thought, she probably didn't.

"I'm glad you came," Hecate replied.

"Are you kidding? I've been wanting to talk to you for ages."

"Really?"

"Really." Now, Pippa thought; and she moved her hand slightly so that her fingers brushed over Hecate's. She let them rest there for a moment. Then she looked up at Hecate.

Hecate was smiling, eyes bright and soft, and Pippa thought she'd never seen anything more beautiful. No matter what happened next, she decided, she'd treasure this moment. She took a mental photo and tucked it away.

Then she cleared her throat, lifted her hand away, and picked up a notebook. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Hecate agreed, and opened her own books. But Pippa caught her touching her fingers to her cheek lightly, as though capturing the memory of Pippa's warmth, and she smiled.

In the end, they spent about half an hour studying and three hours talking: about their class, the things they had learned and the things they wanted to know more about, and that one guy who wouldn't shut up. About their majors and what they wanted to do after school. When Hecate learned that Pippa planned to open her own school, she blurted out, "I can't imagine a more perfect path for you," and then blushed at her own honesty. But Pippa looked so happy that she refrained from mentally self-flagellating at her slip, and decided it had been a happy accident.

They talked a little about their childhoods, about sports and other hobbies, about their favorite places, on campus and off. They talked about favorite books and musicians and holidays. It was the most Hecate had ever shared about herself in a first conversation—likely, she thought, the most she'd ever shared with anyone other than Ada. But Pippa was so easy to talk to, and she shared so much of herself in return. Hecate didn't want the evening to end.

The coffeeshop closed at eight p.m. They gathered up their books slowly, still talking, and took their dishes to the counter. When they were standing outside, Hecate began to play with her hands. Though her anxiety had mostly left her alone for the past few hours, it had returned with full force now. It was the hour of judgement. Would Pippa want to see her again?

"…so even though I ended up with a broken arm that first time, I would still highly recommend sledding. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's like flying—and if you don't have a slightly tipsy Julie for your teacher, it really is safe." Pippa finished her story, and looked to Hecate to see if she was amused, but Hecate couldn't even muster a fake smile. Mentally, she rebuked herself.

"Maybe I could teach you. I'd keep you safe," Pippa said slyly. She put a hand on Hecate's elbow, just for a second, and Hecate breathed easier. If Pippa was suggesting sledding, that meant they'd spend more time together.

But as friends? Or something else? The panic returned.

"That would be nice," Hecate said.

"Good," Pippa said simply. Then she checked her phone. "Oof, it's gotten late. What are you up to tonight?"

"Hanging out with Ada," Hecate said automatically. "We usually eat dinner together."

"I like that. Very domestic."

"It is."

Hecate wished she could think of something else to say. But she just stood and stared at Pippa dumbly.

Pippa broke the awkward silence. "May I walk you home?"

From the second they left the café, Pippa could see Hecate retreating into her shell. It was remarkable, really: for a few hours, the quiet girl who looked like it pained her to talk in class had disappeared, and a clever, funny, confident witch had taken her place. Pippa wasn't sure, but she had the distinct sense that very few people got to see this side of Hecate. She felt honored to be the recipient of her attention.

Pippa tried to keep the conversation going, but Hecate was clearly tired, so she didn't push too much. It was nice enough to get to walk with her along the darkened streets, shoulders occasionally bumping together. To get to be in her presence.

Eventually, Hecate stopped in front of an old building with nice wide windows and beautiful stone carvings around the doors.

"This is me," she said. She seemed to be trying to look up at Pippa, but couldn't quite bring herself to make eye contact.

"Okay," Pippa said, smiling anyway.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"It was really nice getting to hang out with you," Pippa said.

"Yes. You as well." The words came out stiffly.

"Could we do it again sometime?"

At this, Hecate looked her in the eye. She seemed surprised, though why, Pippa couldn't imagine. Didn't Hecate know how much she liked her?

"Of—of course," Hecate said.

Pippa grinned. "Good. There's a little Italian place I want to take you to for dinner."

"Okay. I mean—that sounds lovely."

"Great. How's tomorrow?"

Hecate's eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"

"I know it's a little early, but I have meetings Monday and Tuesday evening, then I have a big test Thursday so I'm afraid Wednesday is off the table, and Thursday I typically take the train into the city to see my grandmother. So if we don't do tomorrow, I won't get to see you until next Friday, which seems like an awfully long time from now. But if you have plans—"

"No, I don't," Hecate interrupted. She was definitely smiling now. "Tomorrow works."

"Fantastic. I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Perfect," Hecate said.

"Oh, and I should give you my real number so we don't have to talk just over Tinder."

"Oh—okay." Hecate handed Pippa her phone, and she typed her number in, then texted herself a smiley face.

"There. Now I have your number, too." Their fingers brushed as Pippa gave Hecate her phone back. It sent shivers down her spine.

"Good," Hecate said. "I'll see you tomorrow." And Hecate began to walk towards the steps to her front door.

"Hecate."

Hecate looked back at her, and Pippa smiled her most winning smile.

"Yes?"

"May I kiss you good night?"

Hecate's eyes went wide, and her cheeks flushed instantly, but she cleared her throat and said, "Yes."

Pippa approached her slowly. Hecate glowed in the light of the full moon. Her eyes were so dark, her hair shiny and silky, and her lips were parted slightly, as if in anticipation.

"You're so lovely," Pippa murmured, and brought a hand up to touch her cheek gently, before leaning forward and kissing her.

Hecate inhaled slightly, then relaxed, swaying forward slightly as she kissed Pippa back. Her hand came up to the back of Pippa's neck, where her fingers tangled in Pippa's hair. Pippa drew her closer and sighed into her mouth, tracing Hecate's lips with her tongue and swallowing Hecate's gasp.

When she drew back, Hecate looked stunned, and Pippa couldn't help but kiss her again, quickly, lightly, needing to feel her mouth again.

Then she stepped back, euphoria coursing through her veins, and said, "Good night, Hecate."

Hecate still looked dazed, but she smiled back, soft and gorgeous, and said, "Good night, Pippa." Then she turned and went into the apartment building, pausing just for a moment at the doors to wave goodbye.

When Hecate opened her front door, she found Ada sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea and reading a book.

"Hey," Ada said, eyes twinkling.

"Hey," Hecate said. "Is there water left in the pot?"

In a few minutes, she had a cup of chamomile tea in front of her, and they were eating yesterday's leftovers, heated up quickly with a spell.

"Not to pry or anything," Ada said with her mouth full, "but, um, if you have anything you'd like to share, please do."

Hecate took a bite, and thought. How to sum up the past four hours, which were possibly the most wonderful of her life?

"It was good," she said.

"Just good?"

"Really good."

"Are you going to see her again?"

Hecate nodded.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'm guessing that was her?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Hecate."

"Yeah. It's, uh…it's nice."

Ada was beaming at her in a way that would normally irk her, but she felt, well, ecstatic, so she didn't mind.

"Say, 'thank you, Ada.'"

Hecate rolled her eyes, but intoned, "Thank you, Ada."

"Seriously. I'm so happy for you. And I'm so proud of you for going."

"Thanks."

"Are you proud of you?"

Hecate rolled her eyes again. "Yes, mother. I'm proud of me too," she said, scoffing a bit to clear the lump in her throat. Ada looked like she knew exactly what Hecate was doing, and smiled her, a little misty-eyed herself. Hecate cleared their plates and started the dishwasher, then headed towards her room.

"Wait!" Ada yelled behind her. "Did you kiss?"

Not deigning to answer, Hecate threw a smirk over her shoulder. She heard Ada gasp. "You did, didn't you! Come back here and give me details!"

"Can't, I have homework!" Hecate yelled back.

"It's Saturday night and it's nine o'clock! Come here!"

"In a minute," Hecate called. She shut her door, then sprawled on her bed. She needed a minute to process.

Pippa's laugh. Pippa's smile. Pippa's hand on her hand. Pippa's lips on hers.

She closed her eyes and tried to recreate the feeling. She could feel the tinge of warmth and smell Pippa's hair.

Then it occurred to her that, if she was lucky, she might get a refresher the next day.

Hecate rolled over and buried her red face in her pillow. Then she heard her phone vibrate. Blindly, she felt around for it, then brought it to her face.

The text read: _jules is teasing me. send help_

Hecate laughed, and sent back: _Same deal here. I'm afraid there's no escape._

Another ding. _ah well. worth it ;)_

Hecate blushed deeper. _I agree,_ she responded. Then she lay back on her bed. There was another ding, but she stayed where she was.

The anxiety began to creep up on her once more. There were so many things that could still happen, that could still go wrong; and it would only be worse as her investment increased. Wouldn't it be better, safer, to call the whole thing off now? To make Ada write a text saying she couldn't come tomorrow?

But then she thought of Pippa's smile. Pippa's laugh. Pippa's lips against hers.

Dating, she decided, was a terrifying thing. She could so easily lose her heart to this girl—assuming she hadn't already—and once it was out of her possession, there was no telling what could happen to it. It could get broken, stomped on, torn into pieces.

But Pippa was right. It was worth it.

Her phone dinged again, reminding her of Pippa's latest text. She opened it.

It was just a string of little hearts in a row: _3 3 3_

And Hecate sent back her own: _3_


End file.
